


you'll be alright, someday

by cute moon (tealmoon)



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Post-Canon, Slice of Life, mentions of pokemon abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23795512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealmoon/pseuds/cute%20moon
Summary: The Claws and Paws Pokémon Cafe is a sanctuary for anyone and everyone, Pokemon or human, who needs a place to heal and find a home.
Relationships: Lilie | Lillie & N | Natural Harmonia Gropius
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	you'll be alright, someday

It's a slow day at Claws and Paws Pokémon Cafe, and the cashier is, as always, terrible at latte art. Nat told her once that he follows an Instagram that designs Jigglypuff made of whipped cream and hot chocolate topped with beaming Pikachu and Eevee. When he attempts a Pokéball, grimaces, and hands her the mug, it's only a blob.

The heat is going to set in soon, but it's early in the morning, with the air conditioning already whirring away. She can enjoy a hot drink without regretting it. Lillie sets her notebook aside and takes a grateful sip, knowing it’s unlikely to be her only cup of the morning. He’ll cut her off well before her lattes hit double digits, but she can put away caffeine with the best and most addicted of them.

The residents of the shelter are starting to spread out through the cafe, rousing long enough to find a new cushion or chair to go back to sleep. They’re plenty energetic when there’s more customers, but they’ve gotten used to Lillie and aren’t as excitable when seeing her. Cecil, the veteran Eevee of the cafe, carries a pair of kits by the scruff out to a blanket nest, one at a time. Emily, a timid Incineroar, passes by Lillie’s table for a brief pat before she takes up an entire sofa to herself.

And leading up their exodus, careful not to step on any paws, Nat says good morning to all of them by name, asking how they slept. He commiserates or scolds the disgruntled meows and yowls: _Yes, the party across the street was loud, no wonder you couldn’t sleep_ or _Of course you’re tired, you know late night treats hurt your stomach, and those were meant for Opal, not you._

He picks through the crowd and finds a relative newcomer to the shelter, a docile Togedemaru with one missing arm that sleepily toddles his way across the room. “Good morning, Spatula,” Nat says, and Lillie muffles a cough, glad she hadn’t been drinking. The shelter is partially staffed by a stream of Skull and ex-Skull kids doing community service, and they often think up some... creative names. “Would you like to spend time with Lillie? You can nap on her lap while she works.”

Anyone else she wouldn’t have trusted to put an unfamiliar Togedemaru on her unprotected legs, sure to get jabbed or shocked if any of them moved too suddenly, but after months of seeing Nat at work, she only scoots her chair out from the table far enough to receive Spatula. He turns in a few circles, finds her satisfactory, and curls up.

“He’s too nervous to play with people so soon, but... but sitting together is fine,” Nat explains, straightening his apron as he stands back up. It’s the first thing he’s said to her today that’s above a distracted mumble.

With Spatula situated, he doesn’t pay much attention to Lillie, and she likes it that way. She’s been working on this research for months, studying a rare form of Oricorio that has started to mimic Team Skull dances, of all things, and even exhibiting dark type tendencies and moves. Quietly, he mediates interactions between Pokémon with a stunning grasp on their body language, well before fights can break out over jingly toys or spots of carpet.

When Nanu shoulders his way through the door, carrying two bags of food donations, Nat doesn’t greet him and barely looks up, so Lillie makes sure to chirp a good morning to him. He’s a regular, same as her.

Nanu has his usual spot in an ancient armchair, and all of the Meowth naturally gravitate towards him, until there’s a cluster of them all clamoring for a feather toy he wields stoically. Nat gets a stiff-shouldered look that reminds her of Gladion whenever Nanu is around, but they have an uneasy truce since the man is so crucial to keeping the cafe successful. Money and supply donations all the time, a source of employees, a frequent customer and adopter... More importantly, he pursues and punishes Pokémon abuse cases with a grim persistence that Nat, as the one rehabilitating the victims, clearly respects.

It would be easy to let Nat’s anxiety carry over to her. Maybe he’s merely intimidated by the dour man, or maybe he has a criminal record and doesn’t feel comfortable around a police officer; it doesn’t matter to her, either way, only that sympathetic shivers threaten to set in. Nat fidgets when he’s not arranging sachets of tea leaves or reminding Guzma the Litten that the scratching post is there for a reason. His thick bracelets jangle together, and she can hear the faint zipping sound of him pulling his pendant back and forth along the chain.

If she hadn’t frequented the cafe for months, using it as a quiet place to study and now to write her thesis, it would have distracted her; if she hadn’t seen her therapist for years by now, it would have been _terrifying_. If you fidgeted, you drew attention. If you drew attention, well...

She would protect Nat, if she had to, from Nanu or anyone else. She would throw her coffee in his face, and shove and scream and give Nat time to run out the back door. Nanu isn’t a threat, but if he was, she would. The thought steadies her: there’s a plan for even the most absurd scenario. Neither of them is helpless.

Nat doesn’t hide in the gardens, where the shelter’s Cutiefly and Cottonee stay, like he used to whenever Nanu came in. Lillie pets Spatula until her hands stop shaking, focusing on the discrepancy between its rougher spikes and the rest of its soft fur. Eventually Nanu fills out the usual paperwork, stuffs a sizable tip in the jar along with the adoption fee, and leaves with a Meowth trailing behind him and a black coffee in hand. The tense atmosphere eases like slumping shoulders.

The shelter Pokémon perk up as the morning wears on, darting to attention as more customers filter in. Giving herself a break, Lillie sips her second latte and watches a young woman wave Nat over to where she’s been petting the docile Incineroar, furry head butting against her shoulder. Hopefully it’s to ask about adopting, since the bigger Pokémon are harder to find homes for.

For someone who doesn’t really like people, Nat doesn’t hesitate to interview her right there. Out of all of the employees, he’s strictest about adoptions, unwilling to okay anything but a perfect fit. Emily is an older Incineroar—she wouldn’t thrive in a crowded home or on the battle circuit. He talks so for long, at such a fast pace, that only the repeated _Ahem!_ of someone waiting at the counter can interrupt him, and once they’ve bought their coffee, he launches right back into his questioning.

Lillie shakes out her hands gently, ready to keep typing, when the slight movement jars the rest of her. Spatula yawns, blinks up at her, and squeaks. She doesn’t need Nat to know he wants attention, so her work waits for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> I just think they'd get along well, that's all. ヽ( ･∀･)ﾉ
> 
> I don't know how to write N but he's one of my favorites!!


End file.
